Dark Wings
by divine one
Summary: response to the Mallie Challenge Schmallenge on mark callie LJ . Theme was 'dark'. Mark and Callie.


**Author** Devylish  
**Title** Darkness's Wings  
**Fandom** Grey's Anatomy  
**Pair** Mark and Callie  
**Rating** R  
**Words** 3565  
**Warning/Spoiler/Summary** None. None. Part of the Mallie Challenge Schmallenge May 2009 at Mark_Callie (LJ). Theme = dark.  
**Disclaimer** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, plot, etc. are the property of the creators of the TV show **Grey's Anatomy**. Any original characters, settings and plots are the property of **devylish**. **devylish** is in no way associated with the TV show **Grey's Anatomy **and no copyright infringement is intended. This work is an amateur fan effort and no profit is being made. Lyrics from mp3lyrics.

* * *

It was midnight and he was still wired. He'd had three surgeries today… three long involved surgeries. His hands ached, his wrists were sore; he was so tired he could feel his eyes closing even while he paced the darkened room. But despite the consuming fatigue he felt, his mind wouldn't let him sleep. His mind wouldn't rest. No. His mind was busy with thoughts of Calliope Torres. Thoughts of Callie's smile. And her laughter. And the little gasp she use to make whenever he touched that one spot on her inner thigh….

He'd suffered through thoughts of Callie for a year now. Well, for three years now; but this last year – the Lexie year – had found him particularly tortured with thoughts of Callie. And tonight, a week after he'd finally broken things off with Lexie, his mind was overwhelmed with the fact that he had no excuse, no reason, for not being with Callie.

She'd been engaged – O'Malley, she'd been heartbroken – O'Malley, she'd been infatuated - Hahn, she'd been heartbroken - Hahn, she'd been off limits - Lexie. But now, now… they were finally both in a place where they were free. There were no impediments. No reasons for his… their… not….

He picked up the glass of scotch he'd poured earlier.

Tomorrow was Saturday. He glanced at his watch, well technically, today was Saturday, and he'd made up his mind that he was going to get Callie back into his life on Saturday. Get her into his life, and keep her there.

He was going to make her smiles and her laughter and her gasps… his. The way they should have been three years ago. He was going to tell her he loved her. That he wanted them to be an 'us'. That he wanted to have 10 little Torres-Sloans with her.

He was going to tell her today.

_Fuck_.

Mark continued to pace, continued to drink, and continued to think about Callie Torres.

***

Callie glanced at her cell phone one more time before giving a frustrated groan. No message and no Mark. _Where the hell was he?_ He'd asked her to meet him for lunch and drinks at Joe's. He'd set the time, noon, and the location, and _ASKED_ her to meet him. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she'd felt/wondered/hoped that this might be a date, versus just a couple of buddies… coworkers… getting together for drinks. And she now knew it _might_ be a date; it might be a date because her best friend, Mark Sloan, had finally shaken himself loose from the noose that was Lexie Grey. He'd been 'free' for a week. Why it had taken her a whole week to find out this information, she would address with Yang on Monday, but for now… for now, she was just happy with the knowledge that Mark Sloan was no longer with Lexie.

So, yeah, anyway, today's lunch and drinks _could_ be a date.

Of course, if it was a date, Mark's being thirty minutes late sucked. Hell, it sucked if it was just lunch between friends.

_Screw this!_

Callie dropped some cash on the table to pay for the drink she'd been nursing, and headed to the door. _Mark Sloan better have a damn good reason for standing me up._

Stepping out of the bar, she pulled her coat closer to her frame. It was officially spring, but spring in Seattle didn't always bring the sunshine and flowers you expected. Today, for instance, it was cool and dark; a storm of some sort creating clouds that threatened to set siege to the city.

She glanced up at the grey sky then began to make her way down the street. Maybe it was the coming storm… or maybe it was the 'date' issue, but her nerves were on edge. She needed something; she needed Mark. She _needed_ to talk with him and laugh with him. To hear him brag about his prowess as a surgeon, and as a man. For some reason, **he** made her feel electric and soothed at the same time. She didn't know _how_ he did it, but he did it.

Maybe hunting him down today and yelling at him for standing her up would put her nerves at ease. Make her skin feel like it belonged to her again.

***

His car was parked in front of his apartment building, but after knocking at his door a few times, Callie still wasn't getting an answer. _Was he ignoring her? Was he with another woman? Fuck! The Sloan/Grey break up didn't stick and he was in there with Lexie wasn't he? _She mumbled under her breath, "Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!"

Screwing up her courage, and her desire to possibly wreak a bit of revenge, Callie pulled out her key ring.

Two years ago, Mark had given his best friend, his buddy, his pal, a key to his place. It was to be used for emergencies -- and fuck sessions -- only. Well, if he was in the apartment with Lexie, there would be no Callie/Mark fuckage, but, she reasoned to herself: _he didn't show up for a scheduled meeting… he could be lying hurt on the floor in his apartment. Definite emergency situation._

Turning the key in the lock, Callie pushed the door open and quietly entered the apartment.

She listened for the sounds of Mark… or Lexie. Nothing.

"Mark?" Her voice is softer than she wants it to be, so she tried again. "Mark?"

She traipsed through the apartment: kitchen - empty, living room - empty, bathroom - empty. She 'traipse' slowed down to a 'crawl' as she headed toward his bedroom, straining her ears for the sound of unbridled passion…. Nothing.

Hesitating for just a second, she pushed open Mark's bedroom door and found him lying, asleep, in the darkened room. _Lying asleep… alone_. Alone except for the bottle of scotch and empty glass that were nestled onto the pillow next to him.

_Son of a bitch! _She stepped into his room, slamming the door and dropping her bag on the floor. Heading closer to the bed she called his name. "Mark!" She lifted her voice and glared at his figure. The figure that was handsome even in an alcohol induced stupor. "Yo, Sloan! Wake your ass –"

As he stirred, Callie stopped speaking, her voice catching in her throat. Now that she was closer to him, she saw there was something else on the bed beside Mark. Something beside the glass and bottle that she'd seen earlier.

Lying in the hand that was furthest from the door, Mark Sloan held a small black box. A jewelry box. It was flipped open and in its center, there was a ring. Maybe the most beautiful ring she'd ever seen.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she fought to keep them at bay. _Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch!_ _He was drunk over Lexie. Drunk and… and mourning their fucking breakup! _She started to back away from the bed. She had to get out of here; to get away from Mark.

"Mmph." Mark shifted awake. "Callie?" He was confused, confused and… yeah, hung over….

She looked him in the eyes… her face stricken and sad, and she continued to back away from him.

"Callie? Wha-what's –" he gathered his senses to him. He was in his room. And Callie was there. Why? He glanced around, his head persecuting him for the apparent abuse he'd put it through. His eyes passed over his alarm clock, and suddenly things began to click together in his alcohol laden brain. He'd missed their date. He didn't show up and she'd probably come to his place to check on him…, or, more likely, to tell him off.

He nodded internally. That made sense.

What didn't make sense was the way she was staring at him. "Torres!" She was at his door now, no longer looking at him, scrambling to pick up her bag. Yelling wasn't good for his head. He lifted his hand to cradle his forehead and then it hit him. Literally. _The ring._

She had the door open now and he didn't know how to stop her. And now, instead of just his head aching, something in the middle of his chest was hammering at him.

"Callie, this isn't how I wanted you to find out."

She gave bark of laughter and stared at him, "What? You were going to whip it out at lunch?" She didn't really think he'd be so cold as to take her out to lunch to tell her he was going to propose to Grey. He wouldn't do that.

The blink of confusion that flitted over his face made her question her certainty.

She shouted, "You were going to tell me at lunch!?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, which was also pounding, mercilessly at him. Callie yelling wasn't good for his head either. "I didn't think that –"

"I can't believe --!" She interrupted him then stopped. She didn't know how to describe how she was feeling. She didn't even know if she _wanted_ to tell him how she was feeling. How do you show your mangled heart to your best friend when he was the one who had wrung it out and stomped on it? You don't.

Callie's frame stiffened and she moved toward the chair that sat in the corner of the room. "No. You know what, go ahead Mark. You have something you want to share… go ahead and share." She crossed her legs, and crossed her arms around her knees. Protecting herself from what she knew was coming.

_She wants me to propose to her? NOW?! Sure, right. Just cut off my balls and feed them to me with marinara sauce_!

"Look Cal," he shifted in the bed, swinging his feet to the floor with a groan. "If you're not… ready for this, it doesn't make sense for me t –"

She cut him off. "Just do it Sloan!"

"Fuck it! Fine!" He shot up, swayed slightly then stalked over to her. Preparing himself for the 'no' that he knew was coming, Mark took a deep breath.

Callie almost barked with laughter at the, she was sure, unintentional physical stance, he took. Dropping to one knee in front of her as if…

Mark had planned a whole speech; a little cheesy, a little sexy, a little practiced. But he couldn't deliver it now. Not when she was so clearly… shocked by the idea. Why he was still taking the chance, he didn't know. It must be that eternal optimist he'd fucking buried in the darkest corner of his heart. The optimist that was whispering to him that asking Callie to marry him was at least _something_. Not much, but something. It would mean he wasn't a chickenshit, and had taken a leap. A huge, chasm crossing leap.

Callie wanted to scream as she sat in silence, waiting for Mark to tell her about Lexie… about how much he loved Lexie and wanted to build a future with _her_.

"You've already seen the ring Callie," Mark started, his voice hitching on the word 'ring'. "I'm not expecting you to say yes." _Not now._ "But, I'm asking anyway." _Cuz I'm a fucking glutton for punishment._ Extending the box to Callie, Mark's voice lowered, "Callie Torres, will you marry me?"

Her mind stopped.

Her lungs stopped.

And then her heart stopped.

And then they all just started up again at the same time; speeding and moving much faster than they should. _Did he...? Did I just hear…?_ She could feel herself starting to hyperventilate and her heart… definite palpitations. She said the first thing that came to her mind.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

It wasn't the laugh or the 'no' Mark had been expecting. But it wasn't really close to the 'yes' he'd wished for either.

"Is that a no?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Her voice was at a pitch she'd never hit before. And she found she couldn't' sit anymore; she needed to get up… and to get out… away from him. He was confusing her.

Maybe they had the same or similar thoughts, because they stood up at the same time. And suddenly, her chest was against his, and her head was mere inches from his shoulder. The shoulder that she knew was strong and caring. She closed her eyes and breathed his cologne in.

"Sloan, this isn't funny. Just tell me you're back with Lexie, and… and that you're going to get engaged to her, and get it the fuck over with." Her voice was soft… vulnerable… hurt. None of the things she wanted to expose to him… not now.

Mark slowly processed Callie's words and then he smiled. _I still stand a chance_.

"Callie, the ring's for you. You're the woman I want to marry."

She looked up at him. "Don't fuck with me Mark."

"I'm saving the 'fucking with you' for later; but the proposal is real."

She was blinking her dark beautiful eyes. "What about Lexie?"

"Dumped her."

"Why me?''

"I think I'm… I know I'm crazy about you."

"So, that's," she glanced at the ring that was still in his hand. "For me?"

He pulled the ring out of the box and handed it to her.

_Yeah, it's definitely the most beautiful ring I've ever seen. _

"Read the inscription."

When she finished crying. And finished whacking him on the chest for being so dumb and so perfect at the same time, Callie said yes.

***

Six months. They'd been married for six months after the shortest engagement Seattle had ever seen. The engagement had only lasted long enough for Callie to get a dress, and for Mark to get her father's approval to marry his daughter.

The wedding itself had been small; Derek, Meredith, Yang and Owen, Callie's parents, the chief and Bailey had been the only guests.

Callie had looked, as Mark continued to say magnificent. The white of her gown against her skin, the subtle, yet delicious cleavage. Needless to say, Mark had taken advantage of his beautiful bride in a cloakroom halfway through the reception.

Yeah, it was the perfect wedding, the perfect reception, and Mark, Mark was the perfect husband. Oh, he still irritated the hell out her. But he also loved her and told her that all of the time. _She_ still gave him hell and called him on his shit, but she also loved him and told him that all of the time.

At the moment, she wasn't talking to him, she was simply watching him… watching him figure out what he was going to wear to Derek and Meredith's barbecue. He'd just returned from his daily run, and he'd stripped his shirt off when he came into the bedroom; leaving him standing in front of the closet in his sweatpants; the dark blue sweatpants that rode his hips… just…. so….

After almost four years of the man, Callie knew she should be over it. Over his beauty. And definitely, definitely after 6 months of marriage, she should be over it. But she wasn't. She was nowhere near over it. Lying on their bed, her head propped up on her hand, she watched him; warm flushed perspiration covering his back and chest… dark sweatpants clinging to his ass; his firm, sexy ass….

Mark turned around holding up two hangers. "White button down or blue?"

Callie loved those sweats… definitely, definitely loved those sweats. They clung to his body like a second skin.

"Callie?" Mark followed her eyes and realized she was checking him out. "See something you like, Mrs. Sloan?"

"Mmmm hmmmm."

He grinned, "Wanna be late to the barbecue?"

"Mmmm hmmmm."

_God, he was crazy about this woman._

***

"Where is she?!"

"Mark, you need to calm down."

"Where's Callie?!"

"Mark –"

Mark pinned Derek against the wall, "Where the hell is she?!"

Derek stared at his best friend with pity. "4A."

Mark let Derek go and moved down the hall; moved toward his girl.

When he reached the door he came to a standstill. Afraid to go in. Glancing back down the hall he saw Derek and Yang standing where he'd left them… watching him; and he pushed in.

Her room was dark accept for the small light creeping in to the room from the bathroom and the green and orange lights of the machines that were attached to her body.

Her eyes were wide open and she was looking at him when he walked into the room.

He didn't ask her if she was okay. He knew she wasn't. She couldn't be.

Closing the door behind him, he crept to her side. Keeping the dark silence of the room.

When he reached the bedside, he bent over Callie, brushing his hand against her bangs and pressing his lips against her forehead. Her skin was warm beneath her lips.

It wasn't until he touched her that Callie gave in; gave in and broke down.

His fingers locked around hers and they clung to one another.

"It felt like a cramp at first." Her voice was hoarse. "I thought, maybe, the eggs… the eggs we ate this morning weren't agreeing with me."

He didn't want to hear. He didn't want to know. He just wanted to hold her and sleep. Sleep the truth away. But the truth… it found him.

"…and then, then the pain got worse." She squeezed his hand. "I was going to call you, but I didn't even make it to the… the phone. Before I knew it… there… there was blood. It was everywhere. I couldn't stop the bleeding." She was crying when she looked at him. "I'm a doctor; I should have been able to do something, right?" Her fingers tightened, loosened, tightened around his. "But, I couldn't stop it Mark. I tried, I --"

He held her hand, and brushed her hair. "Shhhhh, Cal. It's not your fault. There's nothing…. You didn't do anything wrong."

"We were having a little girl Mark. It was a girl."

The tear that slid down Mark's cheek wasn't visible to Callie as he pressed his lips against her flushed skin. _A little girl would have been perfect._

***

She tiptoed into the bedroom, not bothering with the lights, just letting the blue glow of the alarm clock lead her through the room. Pulling her hair out of the loose bun she'd worn it in all day, Callie headed into their bathroom closing the door behind her before flipping on the light.

Turning on the shower she stripped out of her scrubs, slower, and more difficultly than she use to… now that she was encumbered (happily) with a belly the size of Texas.

Top and pants off, she leaned against the vanity and shimmied out of her panties. Texas sized panties. Then, arching her back, she reached for the ridiculous number of hooks on the back of her bra and flicked them open, one by one. With a sigh she slipped the straps off of her shoulders. If her belly was Texas, her breasts were_… what's another big state???_

She pondered 'states' as she stepped into the shower, letting the army of hot droplets bombard her skin. She'd been looking forward to this all day. Her body, since around ten a.m., had been begging for her to: get off of her feet, stand under a hot, hot shower, and clamber into bed… next to Mark.

Everything but the clambering part would be doable, she smiled to herself, letting the shampoo rinse out of her hair; clambering when eight months pregnant was really just a fantasy. What she'd end up doing is plopping, quite ungracefully, onto the bed. But the end result… being next to Mark would still be reached.

Humming under her breath as the conditioner soaked into her hair, Callie felt the baby kick contentedly. He or she liked it when mom sang. "How about a standard tonight, pumpkin?" She rubbed her belly before combing her fingers through her hair and letting the conditioner escape. The baby kicked again. "A standard it is."

_Fish got to swim, birds got to fly,  
I got to love one man till I die.  
Can't help lovin' that man of mine.  
Tell me he's lazy, tell me he's slow,  
Tell me I'm crazy (maybe I know).  
Can't help lovin' that man of mine.  
When he goes away  
That's a rainy day,  
But when he comes back that day is fine,  
The sun will shine!  
He can come home as late as can be,  
Home without him ain't no home to me.  
Can't help lovin' that man of mine._

Finally warmed and squeaky clean, through and through, Callie climbed out of the shower, grabbing a towel to dry herself off with. She towel dried her hair, combed through it, and put the mass into a thick braid. _Wavy curly hair tomorrow_.

With a tired sigh, she looked at the lotion that sat on the sink counter. She really should slather the moisturizer all over her body; dry skin was a pain in the ass. But even more of a pain in the ass these days was 'reaching' all parts of her body. Quickly deciding that it wasn't worth the work, she simply squirted enough lotion in her hand to cover her belly and arms….

Had she mentioned she was the size of Texas yet?

Flipping off the light as she left the bathroom, she blinked her eyes a few times, letting them adjust to the darkness of the bedroom before she padded to the bed, shifting the comforter and sheet lower so she could fall into the bed.

The 'falling' taken care of, she worked on getting comfortable, which was another whole matter. Eventually, she settled in: a pillow between her knees, a pillow at her neck; curled and propped to the perfect level. She yawned, let out a profound sigh, and, at last, closed her eyes.

She was still awake seconds later, when she felt Mark shift in the bed, his warm body molding against her back, his head at her neck, his arm wrapped around her, and their child.

"Missed you." He whispered huskily, half asleep.

This was her favorite time of the day. The time when it was just them; wrapped in one another's arms -- the darkness holding them close, cocooning them in her wings.

"We missed you too."


End file.
